Jah'ren decribed by Cassandra
by Luna Ardere
Summary: A short one-shot where Cassandra describes her troll mate Jah'ren, spying on him. It was meant as a text for inspiring people to draw Ja'ren, but I posted it here for all those who likes my hunters. Rated M for nudity and implied torture.


This is just for fun, and for all those who liked my story about Jah'ren, the silly troll hunter, and Cassandra, his little, soft human friend ;D

It is actually the text I put out on Deviantart as a challenge for anyone who can draw and would like to draw my Jah'ren (because I can't draw at all) and he would like to see how others see him (and as I said earlier, he does pay in naturalia ;D). If it would inspire anyone here to draw him, please visit my deviantart page: .com/ and give me a link to wherever you post it if you do. I would be much obliged.

And poor Cassandra is still a bit uncertain what it involves having a troll for friend\mate\boyfriend. While Jah'ren never worries about a thing.

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_Spying is wrong, but sometimes it needs to be done. When you are curious enough, or needs to learn an__d find out, it is perfectly fine to spy on somebody. Especially if it involves somebody who would not have any objections about being naked in front of you. The spying is more for keeping from being embarrassed if caught looking._

At least, this was what Cassandra though while watching her friend take a bath, because even though she had a suspicion their relationship was getting quite serious she still was embarrassed to look obviously at him when he was having one of his slightly exhibitionistic moods.

Jah'ren was naked as he stood on a ledge protruding from the mountain a little above the pond's surface. The evening sun fell on slender muscles, not the kind of muscle you got from training in a gym, but the kind of muscle you got from working hard, running fast, fighting for your life, and (since this _is_ Jah'ren) wrestling crocolisks.

His body was slim and tall, and different from many other trolls he tried to straighten up when he walked. Although (as Cassandra often pointed out) he seemed to move to a rhythm inside his head, like a dancer without choreography. Especially when he was fighting.

His skin was the bright blueness of the sky in the mornings of early summer, his hair a deep shade of green, like a forest untouched and growing wild. Cassandra tried doing things with his hair sometimes; braiding it, tying it up, wetting it and using a comb on the tangles, but whatever she did the wretched thing sprang back to its state of constant bed-hairiness.

When Jah'ren was young he had encountered some human warriors who had tortured him by pulling out his tusks, and thus his pride as a troll was much reduced. They had also cut one of his ears, the right one, so the pointed part of it was gone and the rest was a bit ragged, like the ear of an old tomcat. Then they had held an ember against his left eye. This had made it whitened, contrasting from the right one which was so brightly green that it almost seemed to burn with the silent fire of the forest. Cassandra always thought of fog in the woods when she looked into his wounded eye.

Although Jah'ren was not especially old, he had earned his respect in the troll tribes around Azeroth. This was much because he could tell stories of countless battles, and could point at the scars to prove they were true. Mostly he healed quickly, but many of the cuts he had taken had left permanent marks in his skin.

The warriors who had tortured him had used chains to hold him, and the skin on his left arm still had the barely visible marks of the chain links in it. Over the right eye he had a short scar, left there by a troll who challenged him as a young hunter, and on his left cheek there was a slim scar just above his jaw, a souvenir from fighting another troll who wanted to take Cassandra from him. There was also one going from his throat and a little down his chest from when a human killed his first pet.

When he leaped from the ledge, strong leg muscles giving him thrust, it was like watching a cat leap, gracefully streamlined. He dived into the water and emerged throwing his hair back to avoid it clinging to his face, in case it would try to strangle him.

When soaked the hair almost looked groomed, hanging down in locks around his face apart from the odd strand escaping the pull of gravity and keeping up its image of being constantly ruffled.

Cassandra watched pearls of water run down his body, biting into her lower lip, when he turned to where she was hiding and said:

"Nice water. Kass come too,"

And she did.


End file.
